


In Limbo

by Demerite



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e14 Such Sweet Sorrow, Fade to Black, M/M, showering together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 01:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20283403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demerite/pseuds/Demerite
Summary: The Enterprise will reach Earth by morning, but that still leaves the night.





	In Limbo

**Author's Note:**

> Technically a prequel to [Maybe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19792420), but you don't have to read it as such if you don't want to.

The Enterprise will reach Earth by morning. 

They'd been headed for Starbase Eight, limping their way to safety after the battle with Control, needing somewhere to care for their wounded, to repair the damage to the ship itself as much as possible before starting the journey home, but Command wants them back sooner, rather than later. With everything that's happened, Chris can't say he blames them, but he wishes they had more time. He's already spoken to Una, and to Spock, in quiet corners where they won't be overheard. They know what to say to Command when they're inevitably asked about the fate of _Discovery_, but he still wants more time. More time to breathe, to hurt, to rest, to think. 

The halls of his ship are familiar but not; packed with the faces he knows from two crews he's considered, at one time or another, to be his, but there are faces missing. Like missing a stair, he'll be walking down a corridor, or into engineering, or sickbay, looking for someone, and then realising they're not here. 

Michael.

Saru. 

Stamets and Culber. 

Reno, Tilly, the rest of the bridge crew. 

Ash. 

And Admiral Cornwell. Chris feels her loss keenly enough that at times, it feels like a physical assault. He'd been _right there, _so close, and he _couldn't do anything_. The willingness of her sacrifice aside, he still feels like he should have been able to do something about it. There had to have been something. Some way he failed. Some way he could have saved her. Some way he could have saved them _all. _

They'll reach Earth by morning, and his thoughts are in turmoil now as he paces the boundaries of his quarters. Una has the conn for Gamma Shift; she'd all but chased him off the Bridge the moment they'd gone to warp, and she'd threatened to send Phil after him with hypo if he doesn't get some sleep, but she'd had the discretion to do it quietly. He'd gone, because if he's honest with himself - shut up Phil, he can be honest with himself if he wants to - he's struggling to see straight, and watching their captain walk face-first into a wall has _got _to be bad for crew morale. 

But in the confines of his quarters, where the lights are low to conserve power, away from the noise and the chaos and the sea of faces waiting for orders, he can't sleep. His thoughts are screaming at him, replaying every second of the last few hours, every decision, all the possible outcomes, trying to work out where he went wrong, what he could have done differently, how he could have brought everyone home. 

The door chimes. 

"Enter." He calls, because he wouldn't put it past Una to send Phil to check on him - she knows him _far _too well - but when the door slides open, it's not Phil who is standing uncertainly on the other side. 

Uncertainty has never suited Ash, and it definitely doesn't suit him now. He's still wearing his blue uniform, the one Chris is accustomed to seeing him in over Section 31 blacks, and he's filthy, covered in all manner of dirt and debris from the battle. There's dried blood on his face, crusted from his hairline down into his beard, but he seems unbothered by it. Chris hadn't even known he was aboard. 

"Ash." Chris breathes, because they're so far past ranks and titles at this point that nothing else seems to fit. Without another word, he opens his arms, and welcomes the other man inside. 

Ash still looks a little hesitant as he steps into the dim room, but the moment the door closes behind him, he goes willingly into Chris' embrace, letting out a small, breathless noise somewhere between and sigh and a sob. His arms come up around Chris, clutching tight enough to hurt, but Chris is glad for it. It feels like being grounded in a way he hadn't realised he needed. 

They stand and hold each other in silence for long moments, just breathing. It's closer than they've ever been to one another without it just being about sex. 

"I wasn't sure you were coming back." Chris eventually admits, not letting go, his face hidden against the side of Ash's neck. "I thought you might stay. With her." 

Ash remains quiet for a moment longer. "I didn't even think about it." He says, voice soft. One hand traces over Chris' shoulder blade through his shirt, "I belong here. I haven't belonged somewhere for a long time. But I can do good here, now." 

Chris kisses him then, and it's nothing like it was before. Before, it has been passionate, but also angry, aggressive. They'd both had something to prove, to themselves as much as to each other. It had been a battle, a struggle, a war. 

But this is different. A little quiet, a little soft, a little sad, but the passion is there. Ash's fingers dig into Chris' shoulders, and Chris swallows the small sigh he makes, tangles his hands in thick, soft hair, matted with blood and dust and debris and holds on, keeps kissing Ash and being kissed back until they're both breathless and dizzy with it, clinging to each other, foreheads resting together in the low light. 

Chris wets his lips, and he can taste blood. It's not his, he knows it's not. Chris pulls back until he can focus on Ash's face, raises a hand to push his hair away from where it's fallen into his eyes to look over his injuries. He doesn't have to ask if Ash has been checked by medical yet; he knows what the answer will be even as Ash tries to wave him away.

_On Qo'nos, we wouldn't even bother to bandage it. _

The wound isn't large, probably just from flying debris in the battle, but Chris knows how much head wounds bleed. Upon further inspection, Ash's lip is split, the source of the blood Chris could taste before. He sighs, and takes Ash's hand, pushes down his surprise at his own actions and at Ash letting him. 

"Come on." He says, pulling him towards the bathroom. Looking somewhat bemused, Ash follows him without resistance. 

Chris decides then that he'll take whatever's given to him. 

Ash leans against the bathroom counter, hands hanging loosely at his sides, where before he would have crossed his arms over his chest. Chris wets a washcloth at the sink and sets about cleaning away the blood and soot from Ash's face. He gets a distinct impression that Ash is humouring him, but he'll take anything he can get right now. Any excuse not to be alone, and any excuse to be allowed to touch warm skin for a few more moments. 

Ash doesn't move as Chris works, submits to the gentle swipes of the washcloth without resistance, all traces of the man who fought him every minute of every interaction seemingly gone, but for the dark eyes the watch him as he wrings out the cloth, as the water in the sink turns a pinkish hue from the blood, then dark from the dirt. 

The head wound has already started to scab a little, and Chris is loathed to interfere with it when he doesn't have a regen handy, and he _knows _Ash will fight him every step of the way to sickbay. He's not actively bleeding, and he seems coherent enough, so Chris isn't worried. 

(He's very worried, but not about Ash's potential concussion). 

"Shower?" He asks instead. He doesn't think Ash will say yes. They've never had this particular kind of intimacy before. Ash has never even slept the night in his bed. This is uncharted territory. 

"Okay." Ash says, in a tone that suggests he can't believe that he's agreeing, but he doesn't pull away when Chris tugs him away from the counter and towards the shower. 

The water actually comes on hot when Chris taps the panel, which is a good sign. He hadn't even thought to check if they still had power to those particular systems after the battle. Chris doesn't look back at Ash as he strips out of his uniform methodically, leaving the pieces of it in a crumpled pile on the floor. Usually, he's more careful with it; even if it's just synthesised, it represents a lot to him. He can clean it up later. There are more important things tonight. 

He doesn't look at Ash until he's stepped under the water and turned to beckon him in after him, and he does _not _stare for just a moment when he eventually does. 

He's seen Ash naked before, of course he has, it's hard to have a great deal of aggressive and physically satisfying casual sex with someone and _not _see them naked a few times, but this feels different somehow. Ash ducks his head, drags a hand through his hair as if he's self-conscious (but that's ridiculous, Chris thinks, he's absolutely gorgeous), but he steps under the water with Chris without any more hesitation. 

They have to press close to each other to stay beneath the spray, and Chris finds himself twining his arms around Ash's waist, pressing his palms to the small of his back, and Ash leans against him, solid and warm and there, and it's enough, for a few moments, just to hold each other under the water and breathe without breathing in dust and smoke and death. It's not quite peace, but it's the closest they're going to get, and Chris holds on like Ash is the only thing preventing his entire world from blowing away. 

It's a sentiment he'd never voice, but that doesn't stop him from thinking it. 

He reaches for soap before he can get too deep into his thoughts, considers just getting himself clean, but reaches for Ash instead. Ash doesn't back away. He still seems vaguely amused by Chris' efforts, the cleaning a thinly-veiled attempt to touch again, to spread his hands over Ash's chest and feel his heartbeat, strong and steady and _alive_, so alive, beneath his palms. He lets Chris touch, and then he takes the soap from Chris and returns the favour, his hands gentle as he works the lather over Chris' shoulders, trailing soft touches down his back. Chris groans audibly when Ash presses harder, fingers digging into aching muscle, finding where tension is knotted and working at it. Chris leans against Ash's chest and lets him touch, powerless to say no even if he'd wanted to because of how good it feels. 

He mumbles something to that effect into Ash's neck, and hears a low huff of laughter in response. It's the first time he can recall hearing Ash laugh, and when he looks up, Ash has that barest hint of a smile on his face, and a sort of soft look in his eyes that Chris has never seen before. He immediately decides that he likes it. It suits Ash so much better than some of the other expressions he's seen him wear over the last few weeks, the confusion, the anger, the hurt. This he likes much better. 

"Thought I was supposed to be looking after you." Chris mumbles, before he can stop himself. 

For a moment, Ash is silent. 

_Stupid. _Chris thinks. _So goddamn stupid, shouldn't have said that. _He's aware of how dangerously close to sentimental it sounds. He's usually better than this, but he's exhausted and hurting and finally the closest thing to safe he's felt in hours, even if the thing he needs to be safe from right now is his own thoughts. 

"Can't I return the favour?" Ash asks, and there's a little spark in his eye that Chris has always thought was a challenge, but is starting to realise might actually be wry humour instead. He punctuates the statement with another press of skilled fingers into aching muscle, and Chris lets his head drop back against his shoulder in silent acquiescence. 

"Okay." He manages eventually, his voice warm, "You win." 

He's not sure how long they end up standing there for, but all the soap has rinsed away, and the water running off them has gone clear, all traces of dust and soot and blood washed down the drain, by the time Chris reaches past Ash and fumbles for the controls. Ash doesn't step aside to let him, and Chris is more than happy to take the excuse to remain pressed against him for another few moments, enjoying so much skin-to-skin contact without an ulterior motive beyond that he _likes _Ash, and wants to keep touching him. But the cold is creeping in, and as the first shiver that runs through Ash's body, Chris pulls away, already reaching for towels. 

They stay close while drying off, always within an arm's length, but not quite touching. Chris feels like he could reach out and touch if he wanted to and Ash would let him, so he does, pushes Ash's damp hair out of his face and presses a palm to his cheek, and Ash gets that soft look in his eyes again. Chris has to kiss him then, because if he keeps looking into those eyes he's going to get overwhelmed and say something ridiculous and sentimental. 

"Do you want to stay?" He murmurs when they pull back from each other. Ash's hand is resting on the back of his neck, a warm, comforting weight, and they're barely a breath apart from each other, so he sees the flash of surprise in Ash's eyes, just for a heartbeat. 

"Yes." Ash whispers back, even though it's just the two of them, still a little damp and exhausted in the confines of the bathroom, and there's no-one to overhear them. "Yes." 

Chris tugs him out of the bathroom without another word, leading him across his quarters to the bed, neatly made since he left this ship, blankets and pillows laid out perfectly. He sits on the edge of the mattress, and beckons to Ash, who doesn't hesitate before dropping down to join him and leaning over to kiss him again. Chris is _never _going to get tired of kissing Ash, he's already decided. He hopes he has the chance to try though. 

With a quick shift, he pulls Ash towards him, until Ash understands and swings one leg over him until he's sat straddling Chris' thighs, leaning down to kiss him, instead of sat beside him leaning across. Chris isn't sure how far Ash wants to go tonight, but Ash has never been shy in asking for what he wants, and Chris would be happy with anything tonight, or nothing. He'd be equally content with aggressive, life-affirming sex, or to just curl up and _sleep. _One part of his mind, the part not occupied with the warm weight of Ash in his lap and the delicious slide of their lips as they kiss asks himself if it's too much to want both. 

*

Later, Chris lies awake and tries not to think. Curled against him, Ash is a warm, sleep-heavy weight along his side, his head resting on Chris' chest, his hair tickling him just a little. The light is still low, the stars are still streaking past outside. They're headed for Earth; they'll be there by morning. Chris watches the stars pass, weaves his fingers through Ash's hair, and tries not to think.

For once, he succeeds.

His mind is already made up. He's going to ask Ash to stay with him,for as long as he's got left. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://ashtylerlurks.tumblr.com/).


End file.
